Macabrely Tales
by Imagination2Words
Summary: Elliot Weirde and Samuel Kasper must work together at the behest of the one called the Baroness. They must determine who or what is the root cause of the increase in evil activity.
1. Chapter 1

Part One

1 – I'm late, I hate kids, and why me?

Elliot Weirde wraps his coat tighter around his waist, and then brings his belt in an additional notch. The dampness of the fog is harsh tonight. The cold wants to dig deep into Elliot's bones. With a disgruntled pout, he starts talking to himself. "Of all places to have a meeting, why did it have to be here?" He feels his feathered companion, Stanley, pecking at his fer suede hat.

"Stanley, stop pecking at my hat, it has enough wear and tear," said Elliot

" _I cannot see any worms, and I am hungry,"_ Stanley replied

Elliot is starting to believe it was a mistake to come here. "Caw… caw," Stanley squawks, _"Don't forget the Baroness was the one who called you here. She will be upset if you do not show up."_

Elliot grumbles, "Why Bleakewood Cemetery? Doesn't she know that place is cursed, along with the rest of Bleakewood Village?" Stanley stares back at him with his beady black eyes, not saying a word. Elliot holds his lantern out in front of him and continues walking down the stone path that leads to the entrance of Bleakewood Cemetery. The path starts to curve around an old willow tree; its branches are full of corolla flowers. At any other time of year, they would smell sweet, but now that fall is a month away they only smell like rotten meat. Stanley spotting the gate takes off from Elliot's shoulder and lets out another caw - "We are here." Elliot sees him circling above an archway to an old iron gate. The words, Bleakewood Cemetery, have been wrought into its lintel. There is an unlocked padlock hanging from a chain. Someone has been this way.

The gate's hinges make a sharp screech as it opens. "She could have at least said what part of the cemetery," said Elliot. Stanley lands on top of the arch watching Elliot with his beady black eyes take the path that leads between the headstones. Then low and behold he spots a freshly dug grave. Those same beady eyes grow wide, at the sight of worms sticking out of the freshly disturbed dirt pile. They are wiggling their ends like a white flag of surrender to the victorious predator. He flies down to the headstone marked, Charles Edward Lamont I, and puts out a loud warning caw –

" _I am here now, my time for feeding has come, and all these tasty worms belong to me."_ No other bird dares to disturb his dinner this night.

Elliot has been walking through this cemetery for over thirty minutes with no sign of the Baroness or the meeting place. He stops and pulls out his pocket-watch, clicks the small button at the top to open the front cover, _"9:00."_ The vein in his temple pumps viciously. He is late. Elliot wonders if he should call out to see if anyone would answer, but thinks better of it. There are other things, evil things, in this fog-covered cemetery beside himself, he's not too keen on dealing with them. He knows they have been watching him since he entered the cemetery, but it is possible that they will leave him alone. His poor luck has not run out. The sound of a child's laughter echoes out of the mist, _"DAMN!"_

Elliot can hear the pattering of tiny feet behind him. He cannot see who or what it is, but he doesn't have to guess. This cemetery is well known to house one type of evil, _Red Hairs_. They are the lost souls of factory children who have died in the Bleakewood Shoe Factory. Lantern light tends to draw them to their would-be victims. They are more mischievous than harmful, nothing more than a bump on the head or a black eye. It looks to be only one following him. One, he can deal with, as long as it doesn't start rhyming. "I want to play. Don't run away, what do you say?" Elliot freezes in place. _–"Well dammit!"_

This is one of the younger Red Hairs. They are the most mischievous of the all the bunch, and the only ones that tend to cause severe bodily harm, like a broken leg, or missing limb altogether. Elliot sighs in wonder at where Stanley is. The one time he might be useful, he is off doing gods knows what. He quickens his pace, too afraid to run full out. It might cause the evil brat to want to play harder. That is something that must never happen. The one time someone did die, was because she ran from one of the younger ones. All it took was an empty grave covered in fog. The evil little brat buried her alive. She was found the next morning by the gravedigger. Her hand was sticking out of the dirt pile with a clenched fist full of red hair.

"Hickory Dickory Dee…What do I see? Don't run, let's have some fun." Elliot slows to a walk when he comes to a fork in the path. The kid is only a few yards away, "Here I am. Better not turn around. I am the creep that walks these grounds." With no time to lose, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small glass jar sealed with red wax. He looks at it closely, spotting a tiny girl with green skin and purple wings pounding against the glass.

"If I let you out, you must go left, while I go right. Will you do as I ask?" The tiny girl looks to be thinking a moment, then nods her head yes. Elliot breaks the wax seal, and in a flash of bright light the little green girl flies free, going left. "I better not regret this," said Elliot and he blows out the lantern–"Let's see you find me now you brat."

The rhyming comes again, but this time it is no longer near him. "Hey you, where are you? There you are, you've gone far, hardy, har, har." Elliot's upset that he was forced to blow out his lantern and to make matters worse. He doesn't have any more matches to light it up again. Without any light to help guide him, he feels that he is stuck here until the sun comes up and banishes this fog. Elliot walks over to the edge of the path and leans against a garden wall made of stone. He takes off his hat and begins to twirl it in his hands, trying to think of a way out of this mess. It only took thirty seconds for Stanley to show up cawing in the air.

"I will be damned," said Elliot. "Down here, Stanley." The fog parts for the blackbird. Elliot holds his hand out, and Stanley lands on his index finger _–_

" _You look terrible. Where is your lantern?"_

Elliot spots a bit of worm hanging out of his beak. "I see you ate, and while I was being chased through this blasted fog."

Stanley shakes his head, removing the evidence. _"What do you mean?"_

Elliot tells him what happened, and Stanley ruffles his feathers when he mentions the name Red Hairs. _–_

" _Red Hairs, mischief makers, cursed children they are."_

For all the lousy luck Elliot Weirde had to put up with, now was the time for some good luck. The fog parts for the moon's white light, revealing a path that leads up a small hill. Elliot looks up at the moon, it's full tonight, and it shines like a star.

" _Look, someone is lighting a fire at the top of the hill. The Baroness must be there,"_ said Stanley

Elliot puts him on his shoulder then walks up the path to the hilltop. The firelight is starting to change colors. First, it was orange, then green. Now it is glowing dark violet. There is an old woman, standing there next to it, throwing small objects into the flames. She is wearing a silk gown that is wrapped in velvet colored fur cape coat, embroidered with gold buttons. The woman sees Elliot coming up the path, and raises her hand up in a stiff-armed wave of hello.

"Mr. Weirde, you are late," she remarks.

"Yes ma'am, I know. You picked a hell of a spot to meet."

She gives him a tight-lipped frown. "The matter is of some importance, and you are the only one I believe capable of making the journey." She then throws what looks like a small muskrat looking creature, but with more teeth, into the fire. The flames rise high changing to the color white.

"What was so urgent?" Elliot asks while trying to keep his eyebrows from turning to ash.

"Every so many years, the doors to the other side crack open. I am here to keep them closed," she exclaims as the flames start to rise uncontrollably higher and higher. "I need you to assist me. The rules are clear on this matter. There must be one to counter me."

Elliot Weirde has been through more than his fair share of the horrors that come from the other side. He watches as the flames reach fifty feet into the air, steady changing colors, white to black to green to orange. The noise coming from the fire sound like hundreds of wolves are howling at the moon. Elliot can see the Baroness holding a stick made of yew in her hand, their eyes lock onto each other, and she screams for him to stand opposite of her.

Elliot runs to the other side of the giant flames. He can see that the flames are parting, an incredible wave of heat overtakes him, but he does not burn. The Baroness's speaks to him in his mind, "Do not move from that spot. I must have a counter to the weight, for this to work. The flames begin to part in the middle. The heat dies down only to be replaced by a bitter cold. Elliot can no longer see the Baroness standing opposite to him. The flames seem to have opened a small rift in space and time. The strong desire for him to move from this spot overwhelms him, but he stays put. Another voice enters his head, a deep-pitched voice; it feels evil and full of malice.

" _Just walk away. She lies to you. If you stay, you will die. So walk away to safety."_

Elliot shakes his head, screaming… _"NO!"_

Stanley has been perched in a tree ever since the flames shot up to the sky. He sits there watching the whole event take place. The Baroness stands on one side and Elliot on the other. The flames start parting in the center, of the fire pit. His beady eyes are sharp, and he sees what is on the other side. _–_

" _Malevolent, cruel, and empty. Such beings don't belong here."_

Stanley leaves the branch, flapping his wings as hard as he can to reach the Baroness. He lands on her shoulder. Stanley sees that her face is a pale milky white. He begins to worry that she is losing this battle. Stanley pecks her cheek, _"Concentrate my lady, Concentrate!"_

The Baroness feels the pecking on her cheek. It brings her back to her senses. She can see the flames are parting; Elliot's face contorts in pain. The void to the other side is opening, and she fears that she may not be able to stop it. Stanley pecks her again. _–_

" _Use your other wand. Use the other one."_

The Baroness does as Stanley instructed her, and pulls out another wand. This one made from a willow tree, the same tree Elliot walked by earlier. The Baroness begins to give everything she has to seal the door. The wand starts to bloom with flowers, and the ground beneath the fire splits apart allowing giant roots to grow out and wrap around the flames.

Elliot cannot see anything, but he can smell something sweet in the air. He feels a peck on his forehead.

" _Wake up,"_ said Stanley with each peck. _"I said wake up."_

Elliot comes to and sees the Baroness sitting on a tree root, attached to a better than average sized willow tree, which now sits where the flaming doorway sat.

"Good of you to join us, Mr. Weirde," she said, "That was indeed a close one."

Elliot stands up, dusting himself off. "What happened?" he asks her.

The Baroness waves her hand at him saying, "What is done, is done." Knowing her, he knew she was not going to go into details. She stands up and removes a cracker from her pocket. "I know this does not do you justice after what you did, Stanley, but it will have to do for now." She throws him the cracker, and he eats it gratefully. "Now Mr. Weirde, for the other reason I requested you to come."

Elliot begins to think what she could possibly want now.

"The sun will be up soon, and I need you to stay here in Bleakewood," She said

Elliot grumbles at this. She gives him that tight firm lip again. "There is cause to believe that something may have triggered this supernatural occurrence," she went on to explain, "As I said before, the doorway to the other side likes to crack open now and then. This time was different. The door was cracked open more than usual. I want you to find out why."

Elliot knew better than to argue with her. "Before I go on this little request of yours, answer me this. What was that? I have seen many things that come from the other side, but never have I seen that."

The Baroness, thinking about how best to answer him, sits back down on the tree root. "Usually this little task takes more than just two people. Six is the usual number, with the occasional wild card." She gestures to Stanley. "Stanley played that role quite nicely. If it was not for him rousing me…We may be having a different conversation." Elliot waves his hand for her to continue. "Yes, that doorway is to the other side. However, there is an untold number of, sides," she quoted with her fingers, "This door opens to the realm of the nameless and forgotten gods."

Elliot raises his hand to stop her, "You know what, never mind. I like to avoid any conversation that involves them, nothing but bad luck when they get involved" The Baroness nods in agreement. "That is precisely why I did not mention that detail earlier. I knew you would be turned off by my request."

"Turned off, is not the words I would use." Elliot has, what one would say, a personal connection to the Nameless gods. Elliot choosing to change the subject asks, "Did you ever stop and think Bleakewood is the cause of the bigger opening?"

She nods her head, "Originally yes, Bleakewood Village would have been my first guess, but after my calculations on figuring out the location of the opening. I found trouble in my math. The numbers shifted me to the church. When I stepped onto the church balcony, I saw the moonlight shine down on the hilltop. It was at that time that I determined there is an outside force trying to prevent me from reaching this place."

"You think someone in Bleakewood was trying to force the door open?" Elliot asks, "Why?"

"That is why I need you to stay here and verify that there isn't a follower roaming around. Bleakewood has enough problems, and a worshiper of the other side is not one I care to have added to the mix."

"Fine, I will stay, but I will need help if there is a follower here," said Elliot.

"I can stay and help," cawed Stanley.

"You will not be enough, I am afraid," the Baroness said to Stanley, "I will send a letter to my nephew, Samuel. He lives in Rose Mire Village. He is a writer for the newspaper there, and he has my family's gift for foresight. Although if you were to ask him. He would tell you it is a curse. Samuel should be able to help you track down any information you may need." They part ways, and as Elliot walks back down the hill, he cannot help but think this is going to be rough.


	2. Chapter 2

2 – Night Terrors

Twenty miles south of Bleakewood Village, there is a smaller village called Rose Mire. It was named for the white roses that grow in the bog on the northern border. Owen Sheffield, the village's night sanitation worker, stands under an awning waiting for the rain to clear up enough so he could light the last street lamp on this block. At first, the rain was a little drizzle, but after an hour, it became a downpour. To make matters worse, his work-mule, Sid, was spooked by the thunder and ran off down the street. He yelled out for the beast to come back, but to no avail. It is a good thing the pouring rain muffled his voice, or the old lady across the street would have heard some language that she finds, _"Quite dirty."_

Ten minutes later the rain slows back to a fine drizzle, allowing Owen the break he needs to get the street lamp lit. With the last lamp lit, Owen heads back to the load up the equipment. Without Sid, getting the cart moved will have to wait until morning. He figures Sid would have run back to his stall; it's where he always goes to hide when it storms. Owen stands there, absorbing the silence of the village. He takes his cloth cap off and wipes his forehead. The clouds broke just enough to allow the moon to come out. Its light begins to shine off the drizzling rain. Owen lets out a relaxed breath, enjoying the peace. He puts his hat back on his head, and leans against the cart. He pulls out his snuffbox to get a pinch of tobacco. After the first sniff, his sense of calm gets interrupted by the sounds of an animal howling in pain.

"What in the bleak hell is that?" Owen asks himself.

The animal screams seem to be coming from the alleyway that's between the bakery and tailor shop. Owen grabs the closest thing in the cart he could use for a weapon, a broomstick. The hairs on Owen's neck become stiff as the bristles on the broom, as the sounds get louder. With the broom in hand, he grabs his lantern with the other and moves closer to the alley. As soon as the lantern's light touches the edge of the alleyway, the animal sounds cease. Owen gets the feeling that he walked up on something that he shouldn't have. It is like the calm before a great and terrible storm. The only sound that comes to Owen's ears, is the shaking lantern in his hand. His nerves are becoming very fragile and are ready to fail him. His mouth becomes dry; all the moisture has begun to escape from his body. It forms a cold film of sweat exuding from his pores. The rats in the nearby sewer can smell the fear reeking from him. It is enough for them to stop eating the city trash and peer out the drains. They spot Owen standing at the edge of the alley, waiting. They know what is about to come, so they wait for the dinner bell.

Deciding this is not a good idea, Owen gets ready to turn and leave. As soon as he takes a step back, a large oddly shaped object flies out of the darkness and lands right in front of him. It makes a hollow like thud on impact, and then slides up next to his feet. Holding the lantern lower, Owen leans down to see what it is. A look of terror comes to his eyes. The calm is over, and the storm has come. The light of Owens lantern shines on the severed head of Sid the mule. Only Sid's eyes were left untouched; everything else looks to have been eaten by some wild animal. Owen drops the lantern; a weak whimper escapes his mouth. The ability to speak has left him. Owen can hear the sound of tiny pattering feet coming from the darkness. The lantern's light reflects off an uncountable number of eyes. Owen raises the broom high over his head, ready to swing at the coming danger. – _"DAMN YOU!"_ he yells as the first shadowy creature leaps from the darkness.

Owen swings with all his might at what can only be, from his mind, small creatures that come from the pits of Hell. With each swing of the broom, he seems to hit two or three at a time. These hellish creatures continuously leap at Owen; the broom handle begins to crack from each hit, causing his hands to be cut up by the splinters. The brush head, soaked in blood, breaks off and flies behind him. What bravery Owen had is long gone, dropping the broken broom handle; Owen takes off down the street with the creatures nipping at his feet. A cruel and cackling laugh coming from the alley fills the air, causing every stray beast within earshot to flee in terror. – _"What fun this place will be."_

No one hears the final cries of Owen Sheffield, as the evil creatures tear into his flesh. As for the rats in the sewers, the dinner bell has rung.

...

Dear Samuel,

I am in need of your services. Please come to the Brimstone's chapter house in Bleakewood. I ask that you put aside your feelings on this matter.

Yours truly,

Beatrice Baxindale

...

"Just _breathe_ ," Samuel whispers to himself, _"Just sit and breathe."_ It has been a month since he last heard from his aunt, the Baroness. – _"Not near long enough."_

Samuel knew from the moment the sound of tiny claws scratching at the bottom of his door woke him up from his latest nightmare. It is a hard thing to forget; those claws. They belonged to her ginger cat, Cornelius. It was still too dark for him to see properly. He yells from his bed, "Just wait a damn moment you mangy cat."

He feels around on the small table next to the bed for the matchbook. His fingers run over a pair of glasses, a candle, and finally the matchbook. He strikes one then lights the candle. A white light surrounds the room, turning everything from black to gray. Samuel suffers from a severe case of color blindness. To him, black, white, and gray are the only colors in the world. He has been like this since his aunt put the family curse on him. Of course, if she were to have a say, _"It is a family gift not curse."_

It was his responsibility to carry the curse on, a job that he never wanted. It turned his mother into a raving lunatic, who now spends the rest of her days strapped down to a table at Bleakewood Asylum. The whole affair is the reason for him leaving Bleakewood Village and starting a new life in Rose Mire. Using the candle's light, Samuel looks at the time on the mechanical clock. It is 4:15 in the morning.

Cornelius starts scratching at the door again. When Samuel answers the door, he spots a short man with green cat eyes staring up at him. The man gives Samuel a wicked grin as he hands him the letter.

Samuel takes the letter and see the front of the envelope is addressed to him. – Number 4 Appricot Lane, Rose Mire.

"You know Cornelius, if you would just knock instead of scratch the hell out of my door, I might be nicer to you." He looks back to Cornelius, but he was gone. Samuel sticks his head out the door and sees a ginger cat running underneath a street lamp.

Now here he is, letter in hand, having a panic attack at the thought of returning to Bleakewood. The sun peeked through his curtains at 6:15. Still awake, and his eyes are bloodshot, not that he would know looking at himself in the mirror. He walks over to his medicine cabinet and grabs a little glass jar with white pills. His psychiatrist, Dr. Mudgett prescribed him this new drug. He cannot pernounce the name. Regardless, it did not matter. He would take anything to suppress the nightmares he suffers at the hands of the so called family gift. He pours himself a cup of coffee and eats a bite of toast before he heads out fighting the crowd to get to his job at the Rose Mire morning was different, he did not know why, but he knew something was out of place. He looks back towards the letter laying on the writing desk, still unsure if he is going to do as she requests. This gut feeling he is getting makes him want to send a reply back telling her he will not come. Samuel puts on his special tinted glasses to block out the bright light of the sun, then shuts the door to Number 4 Appricot Lane.

At 7:00, everyone on Willow Street is woken up by a loud police whistle. They run to their windows to see a large team of Policemen cordoning off the street. Only a few people were able to make out what was going on. It took nearly an hour for them to remove the body of Owen Sheffield. The old woman, who spotted him, could only make out a bunch of rats crawling around on what look like a bag of meat dumped off by the butcher shop owner. Richard Allard was a photographer who lives a few houses down. He was assigned to the Police to take pictures of the scene, after the removal of Owen Wilson. He managed to get only two shots of Owen before the hauled the body away. He did this for over three hours, going back to the Tribune only once to retrieve another barrel of flash powder. He went through three small barrels worth. The pictures and the word of the press were to be kept under tight control until the Police could figure out what happened. Of course, that didn't stop Richard from smuggling a few photographs under his coat. He is hoping they will help get him a raise or at least a bonus in pay. He grabs his camera and rushes to the first cab he could reach. Richard yells to the driver, "Get those horses moving. I need to be at the Tribune post haste."


End file.
